


Where You've Gone

by livecement



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Afterlife, Don't let the tag scare you, M/M, anyway..., but the death has already happened, or do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-15
Updated: 2016-10-15
Packaged: 2018-08-22 14:02:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8288296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livecement/pseuds/livecement
Summary: Keiji looks up at the blue sky that stretches out above where he sits in the grass. The sun is out and bright, but he can't feel the warmth of it on his skin. His hair is being ruffled by the breeze, but he doesn't feel that either. He can, however, hear the sound of cicadas singing in the trees. He thinks it might be summer here. There's a light pressure on his arm, so he turns to see Koutarou smiling at him with his usual warmth and brilliance, except he looks different than normal—shinier—like everything else here.





	

Everything is clear  
Just how you described  
The way it appears, a world possessed by the human mind

-The Tragically Hip

 

 

Keiji looks up at the blue sky that stretches out above where he sits in the grass. The sun is out and bright, but he can't feel the warmth of it on his skin. His hair is being ruffled by the breeze, but he doesn't feel that either. He can, however, hear the sound of cicadas singing in the trees. He thinks it might be summer here. There's a light pressure on his arm, so he turns to see Koutarou smiling at him with his usual warmth and brilliance, except he looks different than normal—shinier—like everything else here.  He holds up one of the wild raspberries that they've been picking to Keiji's lips; it glistens in the sun, vibrant and delicate looking. Keiji takes it into his mouth, his lips brushing the tips of Koutarou's fingers, and chews slowly. He tastes nothing, but he doesn't tell Koutarou that.

"So," he says after he swallows, his voice breaking the quiet that had fallen between them, "This is where you are."

Koutarou's smile dims briefly, but then he looks at their surroundings and peacefulness washes over his features. "Yeah"

"This was your childhood home, right?" Keiji looks to the stone house that's just across the small yard from them.

"Before we moved to the city, yeah"

Keiji only hums in response and looks down to where he's fidgeting with his fingers. He thought he could talk about it, but now he's not so sure. Thinking about where they are makes his chest ache and he's grown tired of that feeling.

He feels something like a breath brush his cheek—Koutarou's knuckles , probably sensing his distress, but it's not comforting like he means it to be; Keiji can't feel the warmth, or the touch of Koutarou's skin against his own. He feels barely a whisper of sensation, but Keiji won't—can't—tell Koutarou that.

When Keiji doesn't acknowledge the touch, Koutarou places a finger under his chin to tilt his head toward him. Keiji avoids eye contact as he feels a lump start to form in his throat and pressure build behind his eyes.

"Keiji"

He closes his eyes tight to try and keep the tears from spilling, but a couple escape and slide down his cheek anyway.

"Keiji"

His mouth forms a tight line on his face, fighting back the miserable sob he knows is building in his chest. He can't look at him. He can't speak. If he does, the dam he's built will break.

"Keiji, please"

There's a hint of a plea in his tone that makes Keiji give in. He looks at Koutarou who's wearing an apologetic expression, distorted by the wall of tears in Keiji's eyes.

He tries to take a slow breath before speaking, but something in his chest catches and he inhales sharply, almost like a gasp, and holds his breath a moment before breathing out his words. "I miss you Koutarou—" The last of his sentence is dragged out with a sob.

The dam inside of him breaks, and everything he's been feeling for the past few months spills out of him.

Tears run hot and fast down his face, and words he promised himself he wouldn't say start to push past his lips in between each gasp for air.

"It's not fair- it's not- it's- I- I can't-"

He barely registers Koutarou wrapping his arms around him and pulling him close. Keiji grabs on to his shirt, desperate for some security, but the feeling of almost-nothingness in his hands only makes his heart hurt more.

"How am I supposed to-" he chokes, "what will I-'

More sobs wrack his body, and he finds himself unable to speak, unable to move, unable to do anything but feel his anguish. Koutarou holds him through it, murmuring soothing words that Keiji doesn't want to hear. He doesn't want to be told that he's going to be okay when it feels like all of his ribs are breaking, and any reason for being happy has been ripped away from him, never to be returned. So he ignores the words coming out of Koutarou's mouth, they'll do nothing but add to the unimaginable pain he's already feeling.

He feels and feels until eventually his sobs reduce to soft whimpers, and he finds his voice again.

"I n-need you, Kou, I need you." It's not something he's ever admitted out loud before, even though he should have.

"Shh, I'm sorry," Koutarou whispers, "I'm sorry, Keiji."

"Don't apologise," He pushes away from Koutarou's chest. "It's not your fault."

"I know but, if I'd maybe fought a little harder-"

"You fought as hard as humanly possible, Koutarou," Keiji snaps. "There was nothing more that could have been done, and please don't make me say that again."

He swallows thickly and starts fidgeting with his fingers, trying not to think about the day before. Trying not to think about how he'd had to give the person he loved most in the world permission to finally let go, when selfishly all he wanted was for him to keep fighting—to never leave him.

Keiji digs his palms into his eyes to keep any more tears at bay and then turns to look at Koutarou, who's looking off into the distance.

"It's not fair," Koutarou says.

Keiji lets out a derisive snort and looks away from him."I never said it was."

He hears Koutarou sigh. "Keiji"

"What."

"You're doing that thing you do."

"What thing is that?" he asks sharply.

"That thing where you get mean when you're upset." There's not a hint of accusation or anger in his voice, just gentleness and understanding.

Keiji ducks his head, glaring at his fidgeting fingers, and takes a clarifying breath before looking back to Koutarou and saying, "Why are you saying these things anyway? You can't feel regret here."

There's a small smile on Koutarou's face when he replies, "No, but I can still faintly remember what it's like to feel it," His eyes look somewhere far away, somewhere far beyond the scope of Keiji's comprehension, "I know that what I'm saying is something I would have felt."

The words drop like rocks to the pit of his stomach. "Let's not talk about it anymore." 

Koutarou looks at him for a moment, his eyes soft, and then he nods, taking Keiji by the shoulders and guiding him down so that he's lying with his head in Koutarou's lap. Keiji stares up at the impeccably blue sky, letting the quiet that surrounds them and the whispering touch of Koutarou's fingers running through his hair numb his mind.

That doesn't last very long, however, because eventually Koutarou starts to ramble, talking about anything and everything. And even though Keiji knows that he's only doing it to try and distract him from their situation, that he wouldn't actually feel the need to fill the silence with nonsense anymore, he can't help but smile a little. There's still a dull throb in his chest, but the small sense of familiarity is almost enough to pretend that this is just like any other day.

So, he lays there with his head in Koutarou's lap, his eyes never leaving his face, and listens to him babble on about whatever comes to his mind. Occasionally Keiji will throw in a couple of thoughts, and Koutarou will beam down at him, his smile as bright as the sun. That's what he's always been to Keiji:

His _sunshine_.

Living without him is going to be dark and miserable, and Keiji is certain that there will never be light in his life again; at least none as bright and all-encompassing as his Kou.

Without thinking about it, he reaches up to touch Koutarou's face, causing him to go quiet and move his head closer within Keiji's reach. Keiji runs his fingertips down from his temple, over his cheek, and then traces his bottom lip with a thumb. As he does this he tries to imagine the warmth that used to radiate from his skin that was always flushed just the slightest bit. Before Koutarou came here, it had been a long time since Keiji had seen him looking healthy, so it's hard to remember the way he almost glowed, but he manages somehow.

As he traces a finger down the bridge of Koutarou's nose, a tear escapes from the corner of Keiji's eye and falls down his temple, getting caught in his hair. Koutarou, who's been watching his face this whole time, takes a hold of Keiji's hand and lays a soft kiss on his wrist and then his palm before placing it back on his cheek and leaning in to it. He looks into Keiji's eyes with all of the tenderness in the world, and it hurts, but Keiji holds his gaze. They stay like that; unmoving in the quiet understanding that this is all they will ever have together now. 

Suddenly something in the world around them shifts, and the once vibrant colours start to fade before Keiji's eyes. He shoots up and looks around wildly, not accepting that this is happening so soon.

"It's time for you to go isn't it?" Koutarou asks from behind him.

Keiji turns to look at him. "Ah, yes, but I- I'll take some a sleeping pill and come right back-"

"No, Keiji," Koutarou cuts him off, "You can't be doin that. There's a life out there that you've gotta carry on living, and if you're going to take a sleeping pill, I'd want you to actually get some sleep."

Keiji opens his mouth to protest, but Koutarou places a finger over his lips and shakes his head.

"Please don't make yourself sick, Keiji." He places his hands on either side of Keiji's face and looks at him seriously. "Promise me you won't come here too often."

Everything around Keiji continues to fade as he frowns and removes Koutarou's hands from his face. "I can't make that promise, Koutarou. Please don't try and make me."

They stare each other down for a few moments until Koutarou finally relents, a sad smile on his face.

"Okay," he whispers.

Keiji looks down and nods firmly. "Okay."

When he looks back up everything is completely grey and nearing transparency, telling him that he only has seconds until he has to go.

"Kou," he says, trying to take his hand, but his own only moves right through it now.

"See you next time Keiji," he says, waving.

The last thing Keiji sees is Koutarou's bright smile, striking even when faded and grey, before everything goes dark.

And then his eyes are opening, the beige textured material of the living room couch slowly coming into focus. He lay on his stomach with his limbs splayed out uncomfortably, still in his shoes and jacket. When he'd come home from the hospital last night, he'd barely made it to the couch before his trembling body had given out, desperate to fall asleep and see him.    

Now, his entire body feels like it's been hit by a truck, and his head pounds from exhaustion. He forces himself to sit up, trying to ignore the slight dizziness he feels, and rubs his temples. So much time in the other world was hard on him, and his brain hasn't registered any of the sleep that he just had.

The air around him is stale, and the quiet that fills the apartment is heavy and suffocating. Morning light peeks through the curtains and catches on the dust particles that are floating through the air. He's barely stepped foot in the place since Koutarou went into the hospital, and now having to be here, knowing that he lives alone, makes him want to burn the whole place down. So he stays there for a while with his head in his hands, not wanting to face the apartment that they shared for so many years.

After taking several slow breaths, he finally stands on his weary legs. He takes off his jacket and shoes and puts them in their proper place, avoiding touching or looking at the clothing that will no longer be needed, and then trudges over to the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee. He's going to need a lot of it to get through this day. This day of phone calls and finalizing arrangements.

This day of absolute misery.

He can only hope for the end of it to come quickly, so he can reoccupy his place on the couch and go to sleep.

Go back to where he's gone.

**Author's Note:**

> I once told myself that I would NEVER write a fic with major character death, and more specifically that I would at least never kill off Bokuto...
> 
> Anyway, I actually started writing this back in March, but kept getting too upset to finish. It was actually supposed to be a lot longer, so I may expand on it at some point.  
> The whole idea is that Akaashi has the ability to visit the people who have passed when he sleeps. However any time he spends in the other world doesn't actually register as sleep in his brain, therefore making it very dangerous to stay there for too long or visit too often. Also, because he doesn't belong there, he can't taste or smell anything, and he can barely feel anything around him. The only reason he can feel Bokuto as well as he does is because of the connection they shared previous to Bokuto's death. 
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](http://livecement.tumblr.com/) and tend to ramble about bokuaka a lot.
> 
> [In a World Possessed By the Human Mind](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mgXphurrsE0)


End file.
